There's Nothing Like a Chili-dog
by Qwisse
Summary: One soft bun, one grilled sausage, a good helping of spicy toppings. All combined – a chili-dog. Bon appetit, rodent.


**Author's note:**

SatAM universe. Inspired by _No brainer_ episode of SatAM, and partially by _Robotnik's Mercy_ by Bryon Nightshade.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to SEGA and DiC.

* * *

.w.

"…Roboticize them."

Rows of bared teeth under terrified eyes. Feral growls mixed with barely intelligible curses. Sounds of struggle, claws scraping against cold metal. An orchestra to Robotnik's ears.

A total of ten rebel animals today. Not bad, not bad at all.

The squad of SWATbots moved and rearranged, letting two of them drag the first to-be-roboticized captive towards the machine. A cylindric glass capsule slid down, partially silencing the screams of the furry victim. Standing behind the control panels, Robotnik gave a nod to the two robot operators of the roboticizer, and cold blue light filled the room. A mindless robot servant stepped out seconds later.

Nine more to go.

Someone decided to play Sonic this time and kicked one of the SWATbots off balance, earning a disapproving _tsk_ from Robotnik. The Mobian even made it to the door before a paralyzing beam hit them.

They were roboticized next.

Five more to go.

When only one Mobian – a trembling pig in a blue vest – remained, the doctor waved his hand lazily. "Halt. Enough for today."

His robot minions ceased their movements and shut the machine off. SWATbots never moved, however, suggesting the confused prisoner to remain on his spot as well. Robotnik approached him, rubbing his hands together in faked weariness. "Ah, another day, busy as always. Would you mind accompanying me on a little leisure walk?"

The pig interpreted the offer differently. "Y-your robots have already asked us q-questions, Robotnik. If you think I-I've changed my mind, then you are wrong. I w-won't talk!" Despite the trembling of his voice, he looked like he meant it.

"You won't?" Robotnik shrugged. "Pity. I will, then. Now, if you please…"

Heavy metal doors slid open before them. The passage looked safe enough, but a squad of SWATbots behind the unlikely duo helped various funny thoughts about escapes stay out of the boy's head.

Robotnik stepped forward, and the prisoner had no other options but to follow him.

"Eighty five per cent of the city's initial population were imprisoned and roboticized in the first night of my rule," the tyrant said quietly, as if not entirely caring about the boy hearing him. "Some were captured later. Some escaped. When I visited more distant parts of the kingdom, the locals were already prepared for my arrival. Do you know how hard it is to build an Empire when nearly every your subordinate is willing to object? I'm still dealing with this problem, as you indeed know."

His unwilling companion grunted something unintelligible. He did know. Not in precise numbers, but he knew the situation all too well.

"But I'm making progress. If my calculations are correct, the Freedom Fighter population halved during the previous year. The Princess must be desperate by now. Oh, how I understand her feelings…"

The boy's arms twitched, and something cold pressed against the back of his head immediately. He held his breath for a moment. If he was done for anyway, wouldn't it be better to end it all right now, with him at least trying to put up a fight?

Still, he wasn't roboticized yet… this thought helped him calm down a little and walk without more sudden moves.

"But in the end, my upcoming victory has its drawbacks. Years of work and waiting are still standing between me and the end of my project, and living them without your resistance promises to be…"

They stopped in front of a thick metal door. Robotnik pressed the button on the wall next to it, and the door opened with a _whoosh_. There was another passage behind it that led on the streets of the city, and – the pig gasped – he would swear he could see the city exit in the distance.

"…boring. Now, go. SWATbots have an order not to pursue you."

"W-what?"

Robotnik amused himself with looking into the captive's eyes, perfectly round with genuine disbelief. "Go home. Find Sonic and the Princess, and make sure to tell them about everything you saw today. We don't want them to miss their friends, do we? Tell them it won't take long for me to find all of them."

The boy recoiled, scared by sudden hints of steel in the man's voice. He stumbled forward, reluctantly at first, but gaining speed with every step. Seconds later, he was running as if the hell broke loose and was after him.

There was a _clack_.

And suddenly the Freedom Fighter was no longer in sight, unlike a dark circular hole in the floor. The lid over it closed again lazily.

Robotnik hummed and approached it slowly. "Surprise, surprise," he mumbled quietly and grinned. "Or, as the pincushion would say: _just kidding_."

The lid rose, revealing a pod made of glass underneath. A rotating metal rod with helical blades made its core – a simplified illustration of a meat grinder's insides. Unlike that of the roboticizer, the glass was absolutely sound-proof, although at the moment the pod's filling didn't look like it still could scream.

He watched the red mass move slowly in circles, then snapped his fingers. The pod slid back into the floor, heading for the part of the city he called the Kitchen.

About a hundred pounds of fresh pork mince. Not bad at all.

With oil making his menu, the man didn't actually need to stuff himself with such ugly substance. When the idea first popped into his mind, he considered feeding the meat to Snively instead of his synthesized nutritious pills – before he found a much better solution.

…It didn't take too long for the rodent to find out that the old broken chili-dog vending machine in the tunnels of Robotrpolis suddenly started working again.

The Princess didn't know about it, and the rodent was too dazzled to ask himself: how did chili-dogs get in the machine?

Sure it wasn't his roboticized uncle putting them inside.

Bread and spice were easy to synthesize. So was the meat, in fact, but it meant much less amusement to Robotnik. He was already looking for a way to give the Freedom Fighters a tiny clue about their spiky leader's eating habits. With them leeching off his journals all the time, it shouldn't be too hard.

He only wished he could see the hedgehog's face during this epiphany.

If he was lucky enough, it would finally make Sonic flip out and do something stupid enough to get him captured. Until then–

"Kitchen reports that special FF sausages are ready. Produce more chili-dogs, sir?"

"Yes, Snively."

_Bon appetit, rodent._


End file.
